


The Minute of Decay

by lovingangelindisguise



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Body Horror, Choking, Come as Lube, Cunnilingus, Death, Degradation, Dom/sub, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fear Play, Horror, Humiliation, Inspired by Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Knife Kink, Knifeplay, Murder, Mutual Masturbation, Obsession, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Probably more of that to come knowing me lmao, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Squirting, Stalking, Suicide, Survival Horror, Tattoos, Tongue Piercings, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, slight daddy kink, throat cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingangelindisguise/pseuds/lovingangelindisguise
Summary: This was going to be a longer story but then when trying to write it as a longer story it made me realize why I don't write longer stories and just keep my sick fuckery to a max of three chapters  🎉🎊Hope you all enjoy! 🖤 Thank you for any comments and kudos, the support is appreciated 🖤
Relationships: F.J.S.J. | The Legion/Reader, Frank Morrison/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	1. Dead to The World

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a longer story but then when trying to write it as a longer story it made me realize why I don't write longer stories and just keep my sick fuckery to a max of three chapters 🎉🎊
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! 🖤 Thank you for any comments and kudos, the support is appreciated 🖤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was going to be a longer story, but trying to write this as a longer story made me realize why I don't write longer stories! 🎉🎊 So, hope you guys like what is left of this story with our sweet little Franky-poo 🖤 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! 🖤 Enjoy!

The orange glow of the campfire reflects off the faces of the other survivors who sit huddled around it, just like you, awaiting the next trial.

Though time is nonexistent in the Entity’s realm, you know you haven’t been here that long yet because there are still realms the others talk about that you have not been sent to. The anxiety of inevitably encountering them weighs heavy on you, and even _if_ it hasn’t been long… it feels like an eternity.

What few of you there are look up as Claudette, Jake, and Dwight approach from the surrounding tree line, looking worn down from the trial they just went through.

“How was it?” Meg breaks the silence as they both take a seat on some of the logs surrounding the fire.

“Wraith was feeling particularly vicious this trial,” Claudette sighs, “fucking bloodhound.”

You all nod in understanding. You rest your chin on your knees, staring at the flickering flames till your vision blurs out of focus. The hardest part is remembering nothing from before, only knowing that there was a before. All you can remember is waking up in the forest and seeing the others sitting around the campfire. You had screamed and cried and ran in an endless loop trying to find a way out, desperate to believe that it was all just a fucked up dream. Unfortunately, you were wrong.

The first two trials were the worst. You went up against Hillbilly and Trapper, and after that second time—when Trapper mori’d you and you got to experience what it’s really like to be sliced to absolute pieces, you gave up on caring anymore. Your sanity checked out. But honestly, it was for the better.

Since then, you’ve actually been doing good in trails, even to the point the other survivors have asked you to teach them some of your tricks. You’re vicious, which is something they all lack, and though you’d never say it aloud: a part of you enjoys the thrill of the chase, enjoys the pain.

Everyone is quiet, and the silence feels claustrophobic like bars of a cage. You sigh quietly and pick at the laces of your boots, your tattooed arms wrapped around your legs. Even if they did all find out that you get a sick sense of enjoyment from the trials, they probably wouldn’t be surprised by the way your skin is covered in jagged pure black ink, scattered images and words littering your body. It’s a comfort for you though, like having a second skin to hide beneath.

Just when your eyes begin to droop, the fog slowly begins to creep in, tendrils of grey mist snaking around your feet, and a jolt of excitement courses through you while everyone else tenses with anxiety. Their figures begin to fade along with the fire, and the next thing you know you’re opening your eyes to foreign surroundings.

You’re standing outside, tall trees and dilapidated stone buildings surround you, and snow covers the ground as far as you can see. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth, but it only takes a second to realize you only feel a slight chill. A chill that’s always there and has nothing to do with the cold.

This is a new realm to you, and the light snowfall makes you nostalgic for something forgotten as you creep forward, staying hidden behind a low stone fence that divides some of the land. As you approach the lodge that looms forebodingly ahead of you, a quiet heartbeat begins to drum in your ears, making your adrenaline spike.

As quietly as you can you hurry into the first floor of the lodge, passing a large firepit in the center of the room before quickly ducking behind a crate when the heartbeat steadily gets louder and louder. You peer over the edge, the noise almost deafening now, and it makes your gut twist with anticipation.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure stalks swiftly into the lodge, stopping near the firepit. The embers cast a dull glow that gives off just enough light for you to make out the appearance of the killer standing just a few feet away—and you almost gasp at the sight of him.

You thought they were all monsters, but this one is definitely human. His hands hang limply at his sides, wrapped in bloodied bandages, and one is holding tightly onto a long hunting knife. His dark wash jeans and leather jacket are stained with dried blood, but it’s the mask he’s wearing that makes your heart race. The face has been carved out, probably with the knife that he’s currently holding, and fresh blood is smeared across its sinister smile. Beneath the mask, though obscured by the shadow of his hood, you catch a glimpse of his tattooed neck, but he’s too far away to make out the design.

The sound of a generator going off in the distance makes you jump and almost cry out in shock, but you quickly clamp your hand over your mouth. Thankfully, he doesn’t hear you and charges off towards the direction of the generator.

Steeling your nerves, you quietly run towards the direction of the generator as well--- hoping there will be a totem nearby it. You stick to the shadows as best you can as you run, listening intently for any faint sounds of a heartbeat. The snow crunches quietly beneath your boots as you trek through the forest. It’s brighter here than most of the other realms, but it’s only from the reflection of the starless night sky on the snow.

You’re halfway there when Laurie’s scream pierces the air, making your gut lurch. She’s already on her first hook now and the trial has barely begun. Not a good sign.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes your head whip around, but it’s just Nea heading in Laurie’s direction to unhook her. You both nod silently at each other. She looks scared, more than usual, and it makes you wonder if she’s never been in this realm before too.

Just when you near the generator the heartbeat picks up and it’s pounding loudly in your ears, the sound causing you to spin around searching for any sign of him as panic takes hold. Usually you’re more composed than this, but lack of familiarity has you on edge—and the fact that it’s not a monster stalking the woods in search of you.

A blur of movement near one of the trees has you sprinting in the opposite direction, your breath coming out in short bursts as you push yourself to go faster. You loop for a pallet to your right and that’s when you catch sight of him in your peripherals, the knife in his hand raised and ready to slash down on you. You duck to the side, silently praying he’ll take the bait, but a few seconds pass and he still hasn’t run by.

The heartbeat is still hammering in your ears and it’s clouding your thoughts, making it hard to think clear of emotion.

“Gotcha.” You can feel his breath on your neck but it’s too late to react, all you can do is watch, frozen in terror, as one of his arms circles your waist—pulling your back flush against his chest as he plunges the knife into you.

It’s a blunt pain, the blade sliding through dense flesh and between gaps in bone to pierce into your chest cavity, and all you can muster is a startled gasp. You haven’t got to watch like this before. They always slice you from behind.

A spurt of blood follows the blade as he rips it out of your chest, shoving you down to the snow covered ground where the once pure white is now tainted red. Your ears are ringing, small rocks and twigs digging into the soft skin of your cheek until he grabs you by the shoulder and turns you over onto your back.

He straddles your waist, gripping your chin roughly with his free hand and forcing you to look at him. The blank stare of his mask swims in your vision as warm blood trickles from the corner of your mouth. It’s hard to breathe. Each gulp for air never enough.

“Not a screamer, huh?” His voice is husky, and your cheeks flush at the realization that you like how it sounds—though he probably chalks it up to blood loss, “I bet I can make you scream.”

How fucking corny. You’re too delirious to fight the smile that splits your face— flashing him blood stained teeth as you giggle hysterically. You hear him growl in frustration behind the mask before his hand darts forward and grabs you by the throat, lifting your upper body off the ground as he squeezes the air from your lungs.

“What’s so fucking funny, bitch?” He brings the knife up and presses the tip into the hollow of your cheek, head cocked to the side as he stares down at you. You’re still laughing, though his grip on your throat makes it shrill and breathier. Even still, you find the strength to respond.

“ _You_.” Is all you reply, but that’s all it takes for him to slam you back against the ground, causing your head to hit painfully hard against the frozen earth. The impact forces another rush of blood from your chest and you know it’s only a matter of moments before your body gives out. Your vision is going dark to the point all that’s in focus is his mutilated mask, and blood is pooling in the notch of your collar bone and making his hand around your throat slick.

He leans down till the fabric of his hoodie brushes against your cheek, and you can hear him breathe in deeply, a satisfied groan rumbling in his chest and vibrating through you.

“Next time, I’m gonna kill every one of your little fucking friends off first and then, I’m gonna take my time with you— till you’re begging for the end, baby. I’ll tear your fucking soul apart.”

You just moan breathlessly in response and the last thing you hear is his quiet huff of laughter before the world goes dark, and pain like a thousand needles trying to push their way out from beneath your skin erupts throughout your entire body.

There’s a brief moment of stillness before you wake up, and you wish that it lasted longer as you roll over onto your side with a stiff groan. The voices of the others sitting around the campfire sounds not too far and you force yourself to stand up. As soon as you do, the dull pain that was still lingering finally goes away.

Everyone looks up when you emerge from the forest but says nothing, and you silently take a seat next to Laurie. Her arms are wrapped around herself and she’s staring blankly into the fire, eyes wide and glazed over. Nobody likes getting taken by the entity, you think, it’s even worse than getting mori’d sometimes.

“Laurie?” You ask hesitantly, and she jerks slightly—startled from her trance, “What…Who was that?”

“Legion.” She says quietly, “There are four of them, I think. That’s what Jake said at least. I’ve only seen Frank, that’s who we were just up against, and Joey… but Jake says there are two girls too.”

You mindlessly toy with the hem of your plaid skirt as she talks, nails catching on the black fishnet tights that cover your legs.

“He looked human, though… I didn’t think any of them would be human.” You mutter, picking at a loose thread. She gives a short laugh, cold and humorless.

“He is a monster, just wearing a human disguise.”

Neither of you say anything else after that, but you can’t stop thinking about him. _Frank_. His voice still echoes in your mind with the promising threat. It makes you wonder if you all were sent here for a reason and if so, what brought him here?

 _Next time_ , he’d said, and you find yourself hoping that next time will come sooner than later.

Your next trial is with Nurse, whose ear-splitting screams make you want to rip her fucking head off by the end of it, but you bite back your anger enough to focus on finding all the generators. Thankfully, Claudette is having a good run of it too and you both make it out with your lives—though you can’t resist flipping off the biohazard bag wearing bitch just before you go through the exit gate, and her rageful scream is still ringing in your ears once you’re back in the clearing.

“We fucking killed it out there!” Claudette raises her hand for a high-five, and you laugh as you slap your hand against hers. You both sit with the others around the fire, but Ace is shaking his head.

“Don’t get too excited. Entity is giving us back to back trials.” He says gruffly, throwing a twig into the flames.

As if on cue, fog begins to seep in from the woods surrounding you and Claudette sighs in disappointment.

“Couldn’t we have just one second of peace?” She says but you’re not listening. Your insides are fluttering with excitement and your leg bounces with the anticipation of the incoming trial as the world around you falls away.

When you open your eyes, you immediately recognize the Yamaoka Estate, and run straight for the main house. Upon entering, you slow down to ensure your steps are silent on the creaky wooden floorboards. Walking down the hallway, you make note of a room on your left that has lockers inside, the room on your right having a big staircase that leads up to the second floor.

Down the hall, the sound of a generator sputtering to life makes you jump slightly—but then you quickly hurry forward to help whoever’s working on it.

Ace jolts back as you drop down beside him to get to work, and then curses when he sees it’s just you.

“Could you be any quieter?” He mutters annoyedly and you roll your eyes, sparking two wires.

“Isn’t that the point?” You snap back, and he just grunts in response. It doesn’t take long for the generator to rev up with both of you working on it, and you scatter at the loud noise—knowing that whichever killer it is this trial is most certainly heading your way.

The heartbeat starts faintly, and you feel a sudden surge of excitement. Ace turns to the room with the staircase, but you divert, instead running into the room with the lockers. It’s the only way you’ll be able to find out if it’s Frank this time around _without_ his knife lodged in your back. Well, with slightly less a chance of it at least.

The heartbeat is growing louder but you can still hear the floorboards above you creak as Ace tries to find a way out— to no avail. His anguished scream pierces the silence as the killer cuts him down. His second scream lets you know that there’s a hook upstairs as well, but it’d be pointless to try and save him right then—you know the killer is probably baiting the spot.

You peer through the slats in the locker, eyes straining in the darkness. Through the doorway of the room you can see a sliver of the staircase and the sudden shadow of a figure near the top makes your breath hitch. It’s too dark to see who or what it is, but the heartbeat still pounding steadily in your ears lets you know that it is one of the killers.

The figure disappears from your vision without a sound, and the silence makes your palms sweat where they’re pressed against the rusted metal door of the locker. Upstairs, Ace’s screams are gaining volume and you know he’s probably on his last attempt of trying to unhook himself before the entity takes him. You don’t usually hide like this, never one for willingly cornering yourself, and it’s making you anxious.

It feels like your eyes are going to burst out of your sockets from how hard you’re staring into the empty room, but the sudden flickering of the florescent lights overhead force you to blink and when you open your eyes—he’s there. You stifle any noise of terror that tries to escape by sinking your teeth into your lower lip.

Frank cocks his head to the side, the blood smeared holes of his mask staring at the locker and right through it at you it feels like. You know you’ll only have one chance to stun him, so you bide your time—watching with rapt attention as he slowly stalks forward into the room.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” He taunts and flips the hunting knife in the air to catch it again with practiced ease. When he walks to the locker on the left that’s two down from your own, you can’t see him anymore, can only hear the muffled sound of his breathing. He flings open the first locker door open so violently you hear the metal tear as it rips off the hinges and clatters to the floor noisily.

When the locker right next to you is flung open and its rusted door bangs against the front of yours, you let out a tiny squeak of terror and immediately clamp your hand over your mouth. He doesn’t move, listening, and the suspense is making your whole body vibrate. You force yourself to take a shuddering breath to calm down. This isn’t the time to let panic takeover.

As soon as his grinning mask comes into view, you fling the locker door open in his face which sends him stumbling backwards with a grunt of surprise and gives you just enough time to go sprinting out of the room.

“Fucking bitch!” He screams and you don’t have to look back to know that he’s coming after you. You sprint up the stairs and his thundering footsteps are hot on your heels as you b-line for the first room. As you vault through the window, he slashes your back and it sends you flying forward, almost over the railing, but you slam against it hard. The cut is deeper and more painful than usual when a killer gets you from behind, and you’ve also never had one this fast come after you. Something’s different about him, and it’s definitely not working in your favor.

You make it down the stairs just out of his reach and, in the distance, you hear the third generator go off which gives you some hope that he might change his mind about chasing you—for now at least. Still, you keep running just in case but when you no longer hear the sound of his footstep and the heartbeat fades away, you know you’re safe for the moment. You lean against a tree to catch your breath and wince when the wound on your back brushes against the rough bark. Thankfully, it isn’t deadly, but you’re definitely weaker because of it.

Laurie screams from somewhere across the realm as he hooks her and you cringe, knowing that she became victim to whatever fucked up frenzy he’s in. If you don’t save her, you’ll be the only one left and you’re fucked if that happens, so you steer course to the left and make your way towards the sounds of her cries.

The nearer you get the heartbeat picks up again, so you slow down and crouch to move more stealthily through the trees. He’s baiting you and you know it, but what choice do you have?

There’s a small clearing ahead and you can see Laurie struggling to free herself, her legs flailing pathetically as she tries to lift herself from the hook that’s pierced through her left shoulder. The sight of it strikes a chord, a razor sharp chord in the deepest part of your heart that, lately, has been threatening to surface. It makes you want to leave her. It makes you want to free her just to hook her again but this time right through the back of the neck, so that you can see the curved blade come out her screaming mouth this time.

You force the thoughts away, stomping them back down to the dark dredges of your mind, and scan the tree-line for any signs of movement before you reluctantly creep towards where she’s hanging. You get about three seconds out there before the heartbeat starts like a hammer against your ear drum and you don’t even think twice before running.

No one could say you didn’t try.

Still, when the entity skewers Laurie and her final scream of agonizing pain echoes around you, you know he’s won. He got exactly what he wanted: you, all alone and defenseless.

There are no pallets around so you’re stuck just running and hoping that the direction you’re going will give you a chance to loop him at some point. He’s gaining on you though, and you’re running out of energy—the wound on your back still throbbing painfully.

When you finally make it through the densest part of the forest, the manor you’d been in earlier is just ahead and you use what last burst of energy you have to sprint towards it. But you overestimate your strength, and when you go to vault through one of the windows your foot catches on the ledge and sends you flying forward onto your face in the center of the room.

You groan softly in pain, head throbbing from the impact and black spots blooming across your vision. Behind you, you hear the dull thud of Frank’s boots on the hard wood floor as he easily vaults the window.

“You really thought you could make it, huh?” He laughs as you try to push yourself up to crawl away.

You don’t get far before he hoists you up from the floor and throws you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the back of your fishnet covered thighs where your skirt has ridden up. Your head is spinning from suddenly being upside down and you grip tightly onto the back of his leather jacket, bile rising in your throat.

Red light fills your vision as he carries you down into the basement and you instinctively brace for the hook to penetrate you, but it doesn’t. He carries you past it and you stare in awe as the entity’s hooks slither and writhe towards you. Before you can think on it too long, he tosses you onto your back on a dirty mattress that’s half propped against the wall in one corner of the room.

You don’t have the chance to even consider making a move towards the stairs before cold metal locks around one of your wrists and you’re cuffed to a chain that’s welded onto the wall. There’s nowhere to go but you still scoot backwards till your back hits the wall, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“I said I was gonna take my time, baby doll. Now that I’ve got you all to myself, you’re not fucking going anywhere. Hell, you probably won’t even be able to walk by the time I’m through with you.” As he speaks, Frank reaches up and removes his mask.

A smug smirk is already plastered on his face and much to your shameful surprise, he’s fucking hot. Just your type. The way he’s staring down at you, practically eating you alive with just his eyes. You’re one hundred percent done for. Goodbye cruel world.

There’s slight stubble across his cheeks and chin, and a scar across his nose. His dark eyes seeming to glow in the red light. Up this close you can finally see the flaming skull design of the tattoo that covers his throat, along with the edges of others peaking from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. 

His long fingers wrapping around your ankle pull you from your preoccupation, and you “oof” when he harshly yanks you forward from where you’d been pressed against the wall—and your back hits the mattress.

When the knife comes into view you squeeze your eyes shut, praying he’ll make it quick, but they fly back open at the ragged sound of fabric being torn. You watch in horror as he tears your skirt away from your body once he finishes cutting it from the waist down. Realization kicks in and you start to thrash, a high-pitched scream tearing from your throat even though it’s useless since there’s no one else around.

Frank just laughs, getting ahold of one of your legs by your ankle even through all your thrashing and pinning it down. You land a hard kick to his shoulder with your foot that’s still free, but all it earns you is him slashing the knife across your shin so deep you feel the edge of the blade against your bone and it makes you scream out again; the pain radiating through your whole body as blood soaks the mattress beneath you.

“Told you I could make you scream.” He’s leering down at you as he forces your legs apart so that he can kneel between them. Your brain is in panic overdrive, and if it weren’t for the risk of further mutilation, you’d still be fighting with everything you’ve got.

He traces the tip of the knife up your inner thigh, and it catches on each thread of your tights, then stopping once he reaches the apex to press the blade flat against the front of your red panties. The feeling of the cold metal through the thin fabric makes you shudder, and he smirks knowingly, nudging it against you. You lick your lips as you watch, heat pooling in your low belly from the subtle but consistent pressure of the blade.

The knife retracts and then swiftly he brings it down again, making a shallow cut across your inner thigh that tears a hole in your fishnets and makes you gasp. Your cunt clenches around nothing, a pulse settling between your legs like a heartbeat; and as if he knows the affect he’s having on you, he reaches forward and hooks his fingers in the diamonds of your fishnets right between your legs and rips a large hole in them.

“Haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already fucking soaked.” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as he rubs his thumb against the visible wet spot on your panties. His eyes flicker to yours briefly before he leans down between your legs and then yanks your panties to the side, locking eyes with you once more as two of his fingers spread your slick folds and his tongue dips in to lap at your clit.

Just the sight of him between your legs has you moaning aloud, but the second his tongue goes to work, and you feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing bluntly rubbing against your sensitive skin, you’re begging him not to stop. Your free hand slides beneath the hood of his jacket and your fingers tangle in his dark hair, holding his face between your legs as you grind against his eager mouth.

The cut on your inner thigh is smearing blood across his cheek as your thighs flex around his head, and he has to finally hold both your legs down before you asphyxiate him with your pussy. His fingers dig bruises into your skin as he sucks and nips at your clit, then thrusting his tongue inside you and causing his teeth to graze against your labia. The teasing sting of pain has you arching your back and crying out, fucking yourself against his face like you’ll die without it.

You can feel his piercing rubbing against your inner walls as he fucks his tongue in and out of you, the smooth edge occasionally catching on the hood of your clit when he pulls out. The contrast of his firm, hot tongue and the metal ball of the piercing causing spasms to wrack your body as you near release, and your hips stutter in their movement.

He knows your close now and moves up to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking and rolling his tongue against the nub until stars erupt behind your eyes and your whole body is convulsing, your pussy contracting around his tongue as he licks up your cum with a hoarse groan, and his nose bumps against your clit.

The stimulation becomes too much, and you try to squirm away, whining when he won’t stop, greedy for every last drop of it. When he finally sits up, his face is glistening with your arousal and you watch from half lidded eyes as he leans over you, momentarily shielding you from the harsh red light of the basement. Your hand that had been tangled in his hair moves down and your fingers caress his cheek briefly. He leans into the gentle touch, and then shudders when your hand moves lower to trace the outline of his throat tattoo.

Like you’ve read his mind you open your mouth now, sticking your tongue out with a lazy smile as he lets a thick string of spit mixed with your cum slowly drip from between his lips and onto your waiting tongue. He wraps his hand around your throat, and then his thumb nudges your jaw lightly to get you to swallow when the thin string of spit connecting your mouth finally breaks away. You swallow it down and it’s warm and thick sliding down your throat, and the lazy satisfied smile is still plastered on your face.

“Open your mouth,” You obey and stick out your tongue again so he can see that you swallowed, “Good girl.” Frank gives your throat a light squeeze of approval.

In your peripherals, you can see his other hand reach down and start unbuckling his belt and then undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. He moves your panties to the side again and then you feel the thick head of his cock prodding against your still pulsing cunt, and you struggle against his hand around your throat to get a look at it.

It’s long and thick, with pre-cum glistening at the tip, and your mouth is watering at the sight of it. You can’t decide if you want it in your mouth or your pussy first but as long as it ends up inside you one way or another, you’ll be happy. He slaps it lightly against your clit, the wet noise making you blush.

“Is this what you want, hm?” He’s teasing you, pressing it in just enough to make you gasp before he pulls out again.

“Yes, yes, yes, please I need it— need you inside, need you to hurt me.” You’re babbling incoherently, willing to say anything at this point just to get him to fuck you.

“What a good little cock slut.” In one forceful thrust he bottoms out, slamming against your cervix and making your gut seize up in pain. He sets a brutal pace that has your body inching up the mattress with each slap of his hips against your thighs, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy echoing around the basement.

He’s got one hand on the mattress beside your head and the other still wrapped around your throat, wringing out each needy moan and whimper. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you see him watching you with a vicious expression as he pounds into you, and your head lolls to the side—body going limp.

Noticing you’re starting to fade; he sits up and releases your throat to instead grab your thighs and push them up against your chest. This angle is deeper, and so fucking good, and it makes your eyes roll back.

“Look at your hungry little cunt sucking up my cock,” his voice is rough and breathless, and his gaze locked on where your bodies are currently connected, “you’re taking it so fucking good.”

Despite your delirium you prop yourself up on your elbows just so you can watch him fuck you with that rabid intensity, and the sight makes you whine pathetically. His cock is glistening from your juices and comes out even more slick every time it disappears inside of you. You shift your weight to your left side so that you can reach down and rub sloppily at your clit, your fingers ghosting against his shaft with each downward swipe of the circles you’re making.

“You like that? Like watching your little pussy get filled up?”

You nod with a high pitched “mhm”, too focused on reaching that peak of bliss, and Frank laughs breathlessly—his fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

You’re so close that your toes are curling in anticipation, and it feels like your whole body is vibrating. He tilts his chin down and drips another thick string of saliva from between his lips and you watch hungrily as it slowly dangles down till it reaches your fingers that are still furiously rubbing against your clit, and you press it into your already slippery skin—flicking your fingers back and forth in the mess.

One particularly deep thrust that feels like it jams right up against your belly has you finally careening over the edge, and all the pressure that had built up comes flooding out—literally—gushing out all over him as you cry and scream his name.

He fucks you through it, almost slipping out a few times from how drenched you both are, until the vice like spasms of your orgasm milk his cock dry and he bottoms out to spill his load as deep as he can inside of you.

Behind your closed eyes all you see is red, and you don’t even know if it’s from the lights or your blood at this point. His weight collapses on you but it’s comforting and helps to still your trembling. You even comb your fingers through his sweaty hair a few times. He pulls out after a while and the rush of liquid you feel oozing between your thighs makes you cringe, but it’s nice to close your sore legs when he finally rolls off of you and onto the mattress.

For a while, all there is the labored sound of both of your breathing, but If it weren’t for the sudden shift of weight on the mattress and the sound of his belt buckle clinking, you could have fallen asleep, even though sleep doesn’t exist in Entity’s realm.

Reluctantly, you squint your eyes open, wincing at the red light, and when they finally adjust you see that Frank already has his mask securely back in place. He’s crouched by the mattress, fishing something from his pocket, the knife in his other hand.

You know he’s found what he’d been searching for by the triumphant noise he makes, and you shy away when he leans over you again. But his hands stop just over your left breast, and you can feel him messing with your shirt and then a slight weight lingering even after his hands are gone.

“Now they’ll all know you’re mine.” His voice is muffled by the mask again, but you can still hear that there’s an almost dismal edge to it and you wish he’d just take it off, and that he were still lying beside you, or on top of you. You just want to feel him again.

He raises the knife, but you just smile up at him with your now usual blissed out expression in his presence. This is the cherry on top, you think, in your fucked out haze. He looks like the devil, looming over you with knife poised and the red light silhouetting his figure, and you can’t think of a better way to die.

“You _are_ mine.” He says and then brings the knife down in a quick sideways motion, slitting your throat. A waterfall of blood pours from the wound as your mouth opens and closes with voiceless words. There is no pain, only cold numbness that makes your head feel empty. Everything starts to turn fuzzy and shadowed, his white mask glowing like a beacon in the darkness, and just before you’re pulled completely under you see him drag the bloodied knife across the mouth of his mask—painting the sadistic grin red.

* * *

Your eyes open to a dense canopy of leaves and branches, the treetops blocking out any view of the sky if there was one. It’s quiet, besides stilted conversation somewhere in the distance.

When you finally roll over and push yourself up from the grass, your limbs feel stiff and overworked, and there’s a dull ache in your lower abdomen. Part of you tries to say it wasn’t real, was just one of your morbid fantasies, but when you look down—the dented yellow smiley face that’s pinned to your shirt says otherwise.


	2. Fear of The Dark

When you make it back to the campfire, you take a seat next to Claudette. It’s only her, Nea and Jeff there at the moment, and as they talk you find yourself staring down at the smiley face pin that’s hanging from your shirt. It’s pretty marred up, and you wonder how old it is—and what it means to Frank for him to use it as his claim over you. Something so seemingly…trivial.

“Where’d you get that?” Jeff’s voice startles you from your thoughts, and he nods to the smiley pin.

“It’s uh… a gift from the entity, I guess.” It’s the only logical excuse you can think of and the girls humph in acknowledgement, but Jeff continues to stare at it with an oddly offended look on his face.

Nea takes off her beanie and runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh, and finally Jeff tears his gaze away to look back at the fire.

“It’s been pretty slow giving us trials lately, huh?” You ask them quietly, trying to change the subject as you toy with a twig that you’d picked up off the ground beside your boot to pass the time.

“Yeah, it feels like it. But I haven’t seen the others much so, maybe it’s just us.” Claudette says with a shrug.

You all sit quietly after that, listening to the crackle of the fire and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. You can’t get the last trial out of your head, and you know the whole occurrence is something you should be ashamed or horrified of—but you’re not. Since you’ve arrived in the entity’s realm, nothing has made you feel like Frank did in just those two trials, and you’re desperate for more. Being with him felt so familiar. It made you feel like you were getting a part of your past life back even though you don’t know why. All you know is you want to hold onto it.

You shift in your seat, antsy for the next trial. The break is giving you too much time with your thoughts, and you find yourself wondering what he thinks of you. If he sees you like he sees the other survivors, or maybe there’s something different about you to him. _Maybe he thinks you’re weak._ You eye Nea and Claudette in your peripherals. _You’ll show him otherwise_.

The fog begins to roll in, much to your relief, and you close your eyes to enjoy the brief moment of black nothingness before the trial begins. When you open your eyes, a large, dilapidated chapel stands menacingly tall over you—backed by a stormy night sky.

Already your heart is pitter pattering over the possibility of it being Frank this trial, but you swallow your nerves and crouch down to sneak through the remains of old stone buildings towards a generator. There’s no point in getting your hopes up.

Always these days you keep your eye out for Trapper’s bear traps. You’ve started to learn the modus operandi of some of the killers, having gone up against them in enough trials, and it’s really helped your chances for survival in realms you’re unfamiliar with.

You kneel by a generator that’s beside a large, half-broken stained glass window, and get to work sparking the wires. After some trying, it revs up without blowing up in your face. Hurriedly, you sneak away from that generator in search of the next one. Everyone else seems to be dragging ass because you haven’t even heard any explosions yet, and you feel a twinge of annoyance.

A lot of the survivors just hide and bide their time, you’ve seen them do it enough now that you know it’s not just you crossing paths with them at the wrong time. They cower in lockers or inside the abandoned buildings and hope to be the last alive so they can search for the hatch.

If anything, you pity them. They’re still afraid of death somehow, even though they’ve died more times than they can probably count. They let the Entity keep them helpless.

As you weave through the trees, you pass by Ace—who ignores you— and his obvious dismissal has you hoping that he gets hooked first. Fucking asshole. Apparently, it doesn’t take long for everyone to start turning against each other in the Entity’s realm either.

The next generator is just ahead, and you hurry forward to it, quickly setting to work to get this one revved up as well.

It’s taking longer this time, and your frustration is mounting. You’re so absorbed in working on the generator that you fail to notice the faint sound of footsteps behind you until a cloaked arm is around your waist and yanking you back from the generator. You shriek in surprise but it’s too late, whoever it is hauls you up and over their shoulder with ease. You can’t tell who it is by their back, but it’s definitely not Frank. You doubt he’d be caught dead in a long wispy cloak.

As the killer carries you towards the nearest hook, you struggle against their grip, but all that does is make them squeeze you even tighter—until you’re gasping for air against the dig of their shoulder in your gut.

The hook pierces through your left shoulder with searing pain but you don’t scream, biting your tongue instead because you’re too stubborn to give the killer the satisfaction of your agony. When the waves of pain finally begin to dull and your eyes have stopped watering, you weakly lift your head to find Ghostface still standing before you with his head cocked to the side curiously.

You both stare at each other in silence, until he raises his hand and jabs his finger against the smiley face pin on your shirt:

“Made a friend, huh?” His voice sounds distorted and static somehow, but it could just be delirium from all the blood that’s pouring forth down your chest and back from the hook that’s embedded there. “That guy is such a bad influence, jeez…”

“Wh-what?” You give him your best confused look and he chuckles with static amusement, probably because you just look like you’re dying instead of confused.

“Guess I’ll see you on the other side soon then!” Ghostface gives your cheek a light slap and then slinks away to disappear among the trees. You’re too distracted by what he said that you don’t even notice when the Entity’s spikes come down, and they immediately pierce through your gut—finally forcing a choked cry from your lips as the realm begins to fade away.

Even when you wake up in the woods near the campfire, his words are still echoing in your thoughts. _What could he have meant?_ Mindlessly, you take a seat by the fire—staring blankly at the flames.

Most of the others are there as well, which is a rare occurrence. You’re usually all in and out of trials too much to be more than a few of you in the clearing at the same time. No one is talkative though. So you all sit in silence, brooding over the inevitable fog that will sweep you away at some point.

It’s odd to you that Ghostface even acknowledged the pin, and you wonder if that’s what Frank truly intended: for the other _killers_ to know you’re his and not just you. It gives you a strange feeling, something akin to nervous excitement.

After a while, the fog does roll in, but you’re next two trials are rather uneventful. You and the other survivors do make it out alive though, surprisingly enough being put up against the Hag, and it allots you all some rewards for your luck at evading death.

The entity is kind enough to gift you some new clothes, which is a wonderful feeling since you’ve been stuck wearing the same thing trial after trial. You’re dressed in a black pleated skirt and a black hoodie—that you made sure to put the smiley face pin on—and a pair of combat boots. It’s a nice change to feel different material against your skin, makes you almost feel human still, and for a moment it feels like there’s something beyond just trying to survive.

Still, even with the small victories everyone has been noticeably more edgy lately. No one has been sharing their medical kits during trials or revealing what they may have found in the chests, and everyone has grown so quiet and distant in the clearing that you barely even bother to talk anymore. They seem to whisper amongst each other, and in particular you’ve noticed Jeff watching you constantly when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

The isolation is growing.

* * *

Your eyes open to the starless night sky between twisted tree branches, a light wind rustling the leaves—a breeze that never touches your skin, only carries the whispers of the Entity through the realms.

Up ahead there’s a playground with a swing set that stands half broken in the center, and next to that an old, rusted slide, all enclosed within a white picket fence. Cautiously, you make your way beneath the white wooden arch of the fence and though the old playground toys. It’s so eerily quiet here, but there is a strange sense of calm.

As quietly as you can, you open the door leading into the school, and once inside it shuts behind you with a creaking thud. There’s graffiti decorating the walls, and large holes in the ceiling above you revealing the burned remains of the second floor. Classroom doors hang off their hinges and inside, the small multicolored chairs are knocked over with the plastic half melted on some of them.

The hollow sound of your footsteps echoes around the hallway as you walk, your fingers trailing against some of the words sloppily spray painted across the scorched walls.

A place like this was once so happy and bright, and now it’s become the grim remnant of pain and suffering. The misery is palpable, yet it draws you in deeper.

The heartbeat begins faintly, but immediately it pulls you from your rumination and you hurry down the hallway—ducking into the nearest room with a closed door. For a moment, you almost forgot that you’re in a trial, which is something that never happens. _There must be something different about this realm_ , you think. It’s almost as if whoever presides over it is trying to create a guise of innocence.

The room happens to be the girls bathroom, so you go into one of the stalls and shut the door as best you can with a broken lock, before climbing up onto the back of the toilet to sit and then lifting your feet onto the seat so that you’re not visible from outside—at least you hope.

Steadily, the heartbeat grows louder. It’s getting closer, and now you can even hear the heavy footfall of whoever it is coming down the hall. Just as the door of the girl’s bathroom is violently kicked open and slams against the wall, a generator goes off somewhere in the distance.

At this, the killer pauses in the doorway, as if deciding what to do next. You’re holding your breath to try and stay still as possible, and your eyes are locked on the blue floor tiles. Fear spikes to adrenaline when you see black combat boots step into your line of vision beneath the stall door, then stopping right in front of it.

Minutes of silence seem to pass before the stall door flies open, and you see a flash of the familiar smiling white mask before you’re being pulled off the back of the toilet by your hair. You fall down hard on your side onto the floor and pain radiates through your hip and leg as Frank drags you by your hair across the dirty bathroom floor. He drops you in front of one of the sinks and then lands a hard kick to your gut that makes you cry out and curl into a ball, cradling your knees to your chest to nurture the stabbing pain in your stomach.

“Lost your nerve since I last saw you?” He nudges your shoulder with his boot, and you’re forced to roll over onto your back despite the ache throughout your body. The mask is staring down at you with its usual soulless expression and he’s gripping tightly onto a blood tarnished hunting knife, but the sight of him gives you a strange sense of relief. After so many trials hoping to see him, you can’t help it.

He crouches down beside you and instinctively you prepare for the blunt force of the knife piercing your flesh, but all he does is slide the tip of the blade beneath the smiley face pin and tilt it towards himself. After a moment of staring down at it in silence, he gives a low hum of approval and the acknowledgement makes a warm feeling of excitement bloom low in your belly, the same feeling that you’ve been chasing every trial hoping that the killer would be him.

“Missed me, huh?” He moves the knife down the front of your hoodie and over your skirt, till the cold metal presses flat against the bare skin of your thigh—making you shudder. With slight hesitation, you nod. It’s strange to admit it…if anything, just to finally admit it to yourself.

Another generator goes off in the distance and Frank looks towards the door briefly and then back down at you. To your surprise, he reaches out with his other hand and gently brushes your hair back from your cheek—his fingers lingering for a moment against your warm, rosy skin.

“The trial will be over soon at the rate they’re going, doubt I can get to them all in time…so, I guess we won’t get to have any fun.” He pushes the razor edge of the blade up your inner thigh till your skirt is slightly bunched up around his wrist, and you can feel the sharp tip of it drag against the front of your panties.

You’ve waited so long to see him. It can’t end this fast. _What if he gets bored of you?_ This is the only thing that’s been driving you to get through trial after trial. _What if he thinks you’re weak?_

“I-I could help you…” The words are leaving your mouth before you even realize it, and you can’t bring yourself to look up at the lifeless gaze of the mask that’s boring into you. _What have you done?_ There’s no taking this back… but you know you wouldn’t even if you could.

“What was that?” He can’t hide the taunting edge to his voice, and he even presses the blade harder against the soft skin of your thigh till the burning sting forces the words out.

“I could help,” You gasp “I could help you find them…” Before you even finish speaking his hand is wrapped around your upper arm and he’s pulling you off the floor and up onto your feet with him.

He holds you close by your arm, so close you’re practically pressed against his chest and you can even see the raised scars of his throat tattoo where the artist’s needle went too deep. Behind the mask you know he’s looking down at you, and you stare back into the lifeless carved out eyes of it.

Each breath you take you feel your chest brush against his and feel the comforting warmth of his body, and you want to suffocate yourself in it. There is no warmth in the Entity’s realm. There’s only nothingness.

“If that’s what you want, lead the way.” He gives your arm a light squeeze and then lets you go.

There’s no time to waste since the survivors have already revved up two generators, so you quickly make your way back down the hall of the school and outside again. What tiny part of your conscience is left is screaming for you not to do this, trying to remind you that you will be sent back to the clearing with the other survivors as soon as this is over, but you can’t bring yourself to care. They wouldn’t be able to prove what you’re doing, and even if they could what would they do? Kill you?

As you creep through the forest towards the nearest generator, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder—but Frank is nowhere to be seen among the dense rows of trees. Still, you push forward and as walk you begin to hear the faint sounds of someone working on the generator.

Once you see Nea kneeling down in front of the generator, you stop and duck behind one of the trees. You’re not quite sure what Frank has planned or what he’s expecting from you, but you want to remain as unseen as you can. As you watch her, you wonder if this is what you look like to the killers when they sneak up on you. She looks so nervous trying to spark the wires, like a cornered animal ready to bite.

It’s as startling to you as it is to her when Frank suddenly emerges from the tree line and grabs her around the waist and effortlessly hauls her over his shoulder. You didn’t even hear the heartbeat warning you that he was close, and even as you follow behind him from a distance while he carries her to the hook, you still hear nothing.

Nea’s shrill scream rings through the air once Frank hooks her, and then he turns to where you’re couched behind an abandoned old car—cleaning the blade of his knife against the arm of his leather jacket and waiting for you to take him to the next survivor.

Your feet stumble forward without you really knowing where you’re going, and you can still hear Nea’s blood gargling groans behind you as she tries to free herself from the hook. Your heart is pounding and it’s making your hands shake, and you’re not even being stealthy anymore, just half running through the forest with a cold rush of adrenaline.

When you round one of the trees you find yourself back in front of the school, and up ahead Jake is crouched near the white picket fence just about to cross the street towards one of the generators. You’re staring at him wide eyed and panicked, and as Frank brushes past your shoulder stalking towards him, Jake’s eyes flicker over and catch yours for a moment.

He saw you. _There’s no taking it back._

It’s an electrifying experience, watching when he turns to run away, and Frank takes off in a frenzied sprint after him. The knife comes down with swift accuracy and you can see the tension of muscle beneath Frank’s leather jacket as he slices him across the back, and then the way Jake falters and cries out in agony. 

It draws you forward.

As you come around to the side of the school where they’d disappeared, you’re just in time to see Frank yank Jake back by his shoulder when he tries to vault through one of the open windows and haul him up onto his shoulder. You follow after like a sardonic funeral procession, not even caring if Jake sees you at this point.

When Frank finally hooks him and takes a step back to admire his handiwork, he reaches his hand out to you, and you stare blankly at the gesture for a moment before taking his hand and moving to stand beside him.

Jake looks up at you and a look of shock and betrayal crosses his features, blood oozing past his lips once he opens his mouth to speak:

“Wh-why would you lead him to us?!” He chokes on the last word when the entity’s spikes come down to pierce him, but still struggles against its onslaught to hear your excuse. You don’t even need one, because Frank steps in for you.

“Because it’s what _she_ wanted,” His hand untangles from yours and he instead wraps his arm around your shoulders, “She knows you’re all weak, pathetic, wastes of fucking space. It’s all just a game, and _we_ make the rules. Who doesn’t want to be on the winning side, eh?” Frank gives your shoulders a light squeeze.

There’s nothing more to say because the Entity’s spikes finally overtake him, and Jake lets out one final blood curdling scream before the Entity lifts him away. You’re transfixed, watching the sky open up to accept his corpse that’s hanging limply from the Entity’s grasp.

Even as Frank leads you away, you still look over your shoulder up at the swirling abyss of the spikes that are slowly dissipating back into a peaceful night sky. You’re forced to tear your gaze away when he leads you back into the school and then inside one of the empty classrooms.

The classroom door slams shut behind you both and then he turns to face you, finally reaching up to lift the Legion mask. Seeing his face again makes your chest ache with a strange kind of sorrow, that could be called homesickness if you knew what that felt like. You raise your hand and gently brush your fingertips across the scar on his cheek, and then down his jaw.

“If you could stay with me, would you?” He asks, leaning into your touch though his dark eyes never leave yours.

The question takes you aback. _Is that even possible?_ It’s a vulnerable question, and that’s not like Frank—but maybe he just wants to hear you say it.

“Yes…yes, I would.” For some reason, your response makes him look away, like he can’t meet your gaze anymore, like he’s ashamed. Without thinking, you lean up and press your lips to his, softly kissing him.

Both his bandaged hands come up to cup your cheeks, tenderly returning the kiss—and he gently nips at your lower lip until you part them, letting him then slip his tongue in your mouth. The tongue piercing is heavy against your tongue, and you suck lightly on the metal ball, earning a low groan from him. It’s a fragile moment, and he has to pull away from the intimacy—has to be in control.

Frank walks you backwards till the backs of your thighs hit the teacher’s desk and then he lifts you by the waist and sits you on top of it. His hands roam down your sides and hips till they’re resting atop your thighs, and then they slip beneath your skirt. The touch is warm and gentle and makes you shiver, and then his fingers hook into the waistband of your red panties and he tugs at them—directing you to lift your hips so that he can pull them off.

Your heart is starting to beat faster, and your body is heating up, watching with half-lidded eyes as he kneels down to slide your panties over your knees and then down your legs and off your boots. He brings the bunched up fabric to his nose and inhales deeply, and his eyes flutter closed at the feminine scent lingering on it. Your face feels like it’s on fire watching him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the erotic sight.

Frank tucks your panties in the pocket of his leather jacket and then stands up and takes a step back from you to lean against the closed door.

“Lay back and touch yourself, I want to watch...and you don’t get to cum until I say so.” The rough, commanding tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and you quickly comply—laying back on the cold wood and then bringing your legs up so you have one foot planted on both corners of the desk.

A twinge of shyness threatens to kill your nerve, being so exposed to him like this, but when you look down and see the way he’s staring at you with such intensity—the hot pulse of pleasure it causes between your legs kills off any insecurity.

Your skirt is bunched up around your waist, and slowly your fingers find their way down to the smooth skin between your thighs. Already there’s wetness pooling there, and your dip your fingers in and then rub them against your clit—the first touch forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Keep your fucking legs open.” Frank’s eyes meet yours for a moment and the look in them makes you obey, spreading your legs wider so that he can watch the way you’re teasing yourself.

Your body is quickly responding to the touch, and rubbing light circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves is making your pussy clench and spasm, already desperate to be filled up. When you easily slide two fingers into your dripping hole, Frank groans aloud and the obscene sound makes you dizzy with need. You want more.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers.” He orders and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your thumb rubs against your clit as you thrust your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. For a better angle, you prop yourself up on your elbow so that you can get your fingers in even deeper—and look up at him as you do it. When your gaze travels down, you can see the hard outline of his cock through his jeans and it makes your mouth water.

The heat is building in your abdomen, and the wet sounds of your fingers fucking in and out of your dripping pussy fill the room—little droplets of arousal even splatter against your thighs each time you shove them back in. You’re so close, staring hungrily at his cock and wishing that he’d just give it to you already.

“I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine and he immediately steps forward and snatches your wrist in a bone crushing grip, holding your fingers still where they’re buried knuckle deep inside you.

“Don’t you fucking dare, or you won’t get to cum at all.” He snaps, and then grabs your chin with his other hand—squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him. Tears well in your eyes from the pain in your wrist, but you bite your lip to keep them at bay. No giving in that easy.

“Don’t move, understand?” You nod weakly, and he lets you go of your chin and then drops his hand to his jeans to unbutton and unzip them.

You swear you can feel your heartbeat inside your cunt, and even without your fingers moving your walls still flutter slightly around them. But you force yourself to stay still, hoping that this means he’ll reward you by fucking you so hard the desk breaks.

When Frank finally pulls out his cock, you moan at the sight. It’s so thick and hard and you want so badly to lean down and wrap your tongue around the smooth head of it to taste him. He laughs lowly at your reaction.

“You want this cock so bad, don’t you babydoll?” He loops his arms around both your thighs and yanks you forward to the edge of the desk, his cockhead jabbing bluntly at your clit and making you whine with need. You 'mhm' in response and he just laughs again.

Frank pulls your fingers out of your pussy and wraps them around the shaft of his cock. It’s heavy and the skin is warm, and you can feel it throbbing faintly in your grip. Experimentally, you stroke your hand up his shaft a few times, and then swipe your thumb over the head—giving it a light squeeze. When you look up at his face, his eyes are locked on where you’re holding his cock and he’s panting lightly, his dark hair hanging down over his face from beneath his hoodie.

Remembering your last time together, you bring your hand up and he watches with half-lidded eyes as you let a thick glob of drool drip past your lips and into your open palm. You can hear him mutter “fuck” under his breath, and then the sharp inhale when you wrap your hand around him again.

His fingers have a death grip on your thighs, digging bruises into your skin as you drag your hand up and down his throbbing length. The head of his cock keeps nudging against your clit every time he thrusts his hips forward into your hand, and it sends little shockwaves of pleasure in your belly. After a moment, his grip moves from your thigh and he wraps his hand around yours that’s stroking his cock—squeezing lightly to make you grip tighter and moving it a little faster.

His eyes are squeezed shut now and you’re practically biting a hole through your lip watching as he guides your hand around his cock faster and harder, making more pre-cum dribble out of the tip. It’s hypnotizing, and you’re pretty sure you could cum just from watching this.

A few more strokes and his hips stutter, and he moans a string of curses when he finally comes, aiming his cock right at your pussy so that each thick string of his cum spurts out onto your heated skin. You feel his shaft twitching and throbbing in your grip, and he lets go of your hand to scoop up his cum from your skin and start fingering it into your pussy—the sudden thick intrusion of his fingers making you cry out.

He fucks his fingers into you hard and fast, his cum and yours smearing all over your inner thighs. The wet squelching noise of your pussy is obscene when he adds a third finger, stretching you open and forcing his cum deeper inside you. You’re so close you feel like your body is going to literally burst into flames—and your moans are getting shriller and higher pitched.

“Such a good girl for me, huh? You’ll do anything I ask.” He’s breathless, keeping his fingers at a steady, punishing pace, and you half moan a yes in response. You love the way his voice sounds when he’s fucking you.

Your hand leaves his limp cock, and you grab the back of his head to hold yourself up, fingers clutching at the soft fabric of his hoodie. The desk is creaking beneath you and both of you are panting, and finally you look up from where he’s finger fucking you to meet his gaze.

“Give it to me, I know you’re close.” His voice is rough, and your ears are ringing, but it’s looking him in the eyes when he says that and while his fingers are knuckle deep inside you that sends you over the edge. You’re pretty sure you scream when you come but you’re too blissed out to even know. Your swollen, pink pussy spasms and gushes around his fingers, sucking him in deeper as he fucks you through the shockwaves of your orgasm.

Your arms finally give out and you collapse back on the desk, the dull pain of slamming your head against the wood not even bothering you right now. Frank leans over you, keeping his fingers buried inside you as he presses a kiss to your lips, and another to your cheek and then your jaw.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, he brings them to your mouth and you eagerly oblige, sucking the digits between your lips one at a time and swirling your tongue around them. Once he pulls them away, he leans in for another kiss—though this time forcing his tongue into your mouth so that he can taste your arousal too.

Your shaky arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close, and he buries his face against your neck. This is everything you wanted, feeling the comforting weight of him on top of you again and drowning in his masculine scent, his hair tickling your cheek. You decide he smells like the forest after snow.

The snow.

A thought that feels like a memory appears in your mind. You’re running behind Frank through a snowy forest—you recognize him by his leather jacket. There’s an old, dilapidated cabin just ahead of you both, and he’s leading you there. He’s so fast you can barely keep up, and it’s so cold. Your fingers feel frozen.

“Will you stay with me?” His voice draws you from your recollection, and then he leans up to look down at you. Silently, you nod.

Your arms fall from his neck when he stands up all the way, and he readjusts his clothes. This is the part where he kills you. Old habits die hard, you think. He unsheathes the hunting knife from where it’d been hanging at his side and stares down at it for a moment—flipping it in the air once and catching it by the handle. You smile slightly, wondering how many of the killers spend their time mastering knife tricks between trials.

He flips it in the air again though this time catching it by the blade and then, almost hesitantly, he holds the hilt out to you. You stare at it and then back up at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You have to kill yourself,” As he speaks, he pulls the Legion mask back down over his face “Then the Entity will make you one of us, as a reward to me. I don’t know what realm you’ll end up in but…wherever it is, I’ll find you. I promise.”

“How do you know this?” You ask and finally sit up, pushing your skirt down as you do.

“The Entity talks to us…I asked it. Asked it what I had to do to get you back.”

“Back?”

Frank looks away and just offers the knife up to you again, his grip on the blade white knuckled. Uncertainty is swimming in your thoughts but still, you take it from him. What if you don’t have another trial together again for who knows how long? And Jake clearly saw what you had done, you know that he’ll tell the others. Even if they couldn’t kill you, the misery of having to sit with them all in bitter silence would near drive you insane, and they’d never trust you in another trial again. _They would never understand._

You have nothing to lose.

You don’t let yourself think when you bring the blade up and drag it deep from one side of your throat to the other. It feels cold and numb—but there’s no pain even though you can feel the torrent of blood soaking through the front of your hoodie. In an instant Frank has you in his arms, holding you tight against him with your face tucked against in his neck and his fingers tangled in your hair.

Blood is pouring from your throat down the front of his leather jacket in thick clots, you can see the dark sheen of it in the blue light from the window outside. You cough hoarsely, and you realize you can’t speak anymore— and your throat feels thick and gravelly.

It takes longer to bleed out than you thought it would, but Frank keeps you wrapped tightly in his arms the whole time. His fingers stroke your hair occasionally, his masked face resting atop your head. You can feel his pulse through his neck where it’s pressed against your forehead, and when your eyes finally slip closed, feeling like a thousand pins and needles starting to force their way through your skin spreads all throughout your body—the steady beat of his heart surrounds you, pulling you under into a suffocating silence.


End file.
